The action had been like a rallying cry for the enemy. Suddenly a dozen ships were inbound and Tlomega, mouthing curses, had ordered the two remaining Tlartox cruisers away to finish things at Prime Delta. And still, even as they retreated, Vindicateur had fired at them from its last remaining big turret.
Sab dragged herself to her chair, wanting nothing more than sleep. For three days this battles for the Primes had raged. Morale, fleet-wide, was down. No one had expected such a fight. Yet they could do nothing except fight. The Confederation destabilization of hyperspace had seen to that. A third Tlartox vessel trying to jump had blown up. Incoming vessels seemed able to drop without problem, but jumping had turned deadly.
She’d taken it upon herself to recall yet another fleet. It, and Tlentror’s fleet, would arrive at any hour now. Very soon after, Lormar would be theirs.
“Star Admiral, I have General Tlearfong on the vid from Prime Delta.” Blontera beckoned her. Sab wondered what Tlearfong had to report.
“Star Admiral Tlorth here. What is it General?”
There was a cut above Tlearfong’s right eye, blood matting the fur. The grey and black striped face held a mixture of weariness and anger. Certainly the ears were cocked at an angry angle.
“Where is that rat-spawn Tlomega, Admiral?”
Sab blinked twice. She cut the volume—too late. The entire bridge had heard Tlearfong’s words. The whole fleet would know within the hour.
“Fleet Admiral Tlomega is planning the final assault on Lormar and its defenders,” Sab replied cautiously. “May I help the General?”
“You can space the Fleet Admiral and her plans.”
Enough. Sab’s pupils slitted and her ears went back.
“Six thousand casualties, Star Admiral,” Tlearfong accused. “Six thousand of my commandos are dead or badly wounded.”
Ah, so that was it. Her ears returned to a more solicitous angle. “Fleet has suffered heavy casualties as well, General. The four Primes have—”
“Six thousand here on Delta, Star Admiral. Tlar only knows how many on the others.”
Sab’s stomach lurched. So many?
“And this against an enemy which your precious Fleet Admiral declared would turn tail after a sharp clawing.” Tlearfong was angry clear through. “Please give my regards to the Fleet Admiral and ask her to meet me on Prime Delta. Besides myself there are several thousand commandos who would like to meet her in person.”
Sab Tlorth wisely decided to not pass on that message.
VINDICTIVE
“Gentlemen, Ladies. We’ve all seen the vids and know how desperate the situation is at Lormar. We’ve all seen the tenacious defense of our fellow citizens by the navy, the Adian fleet and a mixture of Adian marines, Confederation marines, fleet personnel and volunteers.
“They have paid an enormous price. We cannot allow that price to have been paid in vain. In five minutes, Second and Fourth Fleets jump. Four hours after that we will be there. If the Gods are willing, we shall arrive in time to save the remnants of Lormar’s defense forces. I expect every man and woman aboard to be ready.”
Admiral Blarenti’s address went to all ships. He had been correct. The vids had deeply affected all who had seen them, and all had seen them. Now, they merely wanted to arrive in time—and to inflict their revenge upon the Tlartox fleet. Admiral Blarenti could not have hoped for a more dedicated, focused force.
The fleets stood in tight formation, ready for the last jump. Nothing would stand in their way.
“Jump!” Two hundred and sixteen vessels of the Confederation Navy winked out. “Maximum speed. Destination: Lormar.”
STARBURST
Vice Admiral Knerden faced a near mutiny. Ships coming in from hyperspace, not yet under his orders to not show vids from Lormar, had brought back the information and it had spread like wildfire. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to rush back to the lost cause.
He had to remain strong, to protect his fleet against its loss in the futile struggle for Lormar and her Primes. The remains of First Fleet was all that stood between the Tlartox and the overrunning of the Confederation. Even now a Tlartox fleet had come out of hyperspace near Rosneli, maneuvering to take out her Primes. Those Primes were, against standing orders from Fleet, preparing to defend themselves to the death, following the insane example of the Adians. About fifteen old frigates and one modern cruiser prepared to attack the Tlartox fleet. Insanity.
“Sir, I have a message from Admiral Blarenti’s Second Fleet.” Captain Yrgren was polite but distant and Knerden felt betrayed. The Captain also wanted to return to Lormar.
“What is it, Captain?”
“Second and Fourth Fleets are inbound for Lormar. Due there in four hours.” Under the impartial tone, Knerden was sure he could sense satisfaction.
“Thank you, Captain. With Second and Fourth Fleets taking on the Tlartox we are free to strike against the enemy. We will head for Tlartox space. Have all ships ready to jump within the hour.”
“Within the hour, aye, sir.”
Knerden couldn’t believe it. Fleet had ordered Lormar evacuated. What were Second and Fourth Fleets doing? It went against the strategy the best minds, including his, had developed. There would be hell to pay when HQ restored comm and found out.
The Tlartox still had the better part of two fleets insystem and others in Confederation space. It was madness to risk the bulk of their forces in a battle whose conclusion any with eyes could foresee.
He stepped from behind his desk. The forty-seven ships of his Fleet would make the difference. Hitting at the Tlartox supply lines and stations, while their own fleets were heavily engaged in Confederation Space, would have telling results.
He nodded to himself. It was the best strategy. And it wouldn’t hurt to be known as the man who took the war back to the enemy.
PRIME ALPHA
“Commander Britlot, good to see you made it through that mess.” Commodore Taglini smiled his most reassuring smile, though inside he felt a mass of nerves. He had led a small force of Confederation spacers in the battle for Docking Bay One. It had almost been too much and he didn’t know if he could take any more. Searcher’s weapons discharge in the bay had unnerved him.
“Commodore,” Britlot’s smile was genuine. It appeared that he had recovered quickly from the grimness of the battle. “I hadn’t realized that you weren’t in Tempest. How is she, by the way?”
“Ready to kick off the station, Mart. Between you and me, I’d prefer to face another Tlartox fleet than go through anything like that again. I don’t know how the marines do it.” He hoped that Britlot wouldn’t notice the shaking of his hands. “How’s Searcher?” he asked, changing the subject. “Saw what you did to that cruiser. Well done, well done indeed.”
“Thank you, sir. Searcher is ready to go. As soon as the dockers ascertain that it is safe to open the bay doors we’ll be spacers again.”
“Good, good. Hurricane is ready, also, so it’ll be just like old times.” Old times of a few weeks ago. Nothing would be like old times again. When this ended, he’d retire. See if Listra would like to spend the rest of her life planetside with him. They had earned it. He felt the pressure of the stick in his pocket and wondered if he could actually hand it over. It felt like a line he would cross, giving up hope.
“Mart,” his voice became soft and tentative. Britlot looked up in surprise. “I have a favor to ask.”
“Of course, sir. What is it?”
Taglini hesitated, then reached into his pocket. “Here. If anything happens to me, see that Captain Benteel gets this.” He turned suddenly and walked off, leaving a surprised Britlot holding a datastick.
Mart Britlot watched as Commodore Taglini straightened his back and squared his shoulders. His stride became a swagger, but Britlot wasn’t fooled; Taglini’s hands had trembled as he’d passed the stick. Britlot stood and watched as Taglini gave words of encouragement to some whom he passed and waves to others.
“Sir?”
&
nbsp; “Yes, what is it?” Britlot asked the old foreman, the one who had initially greeted him when Searcher came aboard.
“All our systems are green. You can leave any time.” The old man looked at him. “Did you really fire her weapons inside the bay?”
“Well, not actually. I was outside at the time. But yes, Searcher did fire.” Britlot smiled. He didn’t really want to talk about it, but the man had given him and his ship all the assistance he could have hoped for—and more.
“You were in the fight, then?” The old man seemed impressed.
“Yes, I was. We were quite worried for a while, until the Adians showed up.”
The foreman’s eyes widened a little. “You did good work.” He turned as someone called to him. “Good luck out there, son.”
“Thank you, sir.” At the word ‘sir’, the foreman seemed to walk with just a little more spring in his step.
Britlot turned. Time to get Searcher ready for space again.
* * *
Group Commander Prawl Tlerik grimly directed the retreat. She roundly cursed the Fleet rats who had not properly cleared the way to the station, thus denying the Commandos half their force. The stationtox had fought hard, costing them casualties in every corridor, laying traps and ambushes. She had nothing but good to say of them. They had fought bravely in defense just as she now did. But the Fleet rats—that was another story.
Even without all their forces, they had done well until the docking bay. Who would have thought that anyone would fire ship’s weapons within the station? She had fought there and the effect had been horrendous. From there all had gone badly and the humans now pushed them back the way they had come.
“Tlasren, get your section over there,” she ordered. They had to protect their flanks.
“Down! Down!” Everyone flattened as a band of howling humans poured down the corridor she’d just indicated. She raised her side arm and began firing. Then they were among each other and there was no time. A human was about to plunge a knife into her when one of her commandos raked that one’s face with claws. A terrible scream ensued. Her own claws extended, she pushed into the battle. It became human against Tlartox, one on one. The smell of blood hung heavy in the air.
Prawl felt a terrible blow to the back of her neck and went down. Her vision blurred and her ears rang. She rose to her hands and knees and someone kicked her in the side. Rolling over, she clawed a human’s leg. It screamed and gave the commando it fought a chance to deliver the killing blow.
Shots rang out and she heard the spine-chilling cry of Tlartox on the charge. She slumped against the bulkhead and watched as another section swept the humans back in a brutal counter-attack.
Quiet. Except for groans and low cries, there was quiet. Prawl looked about her. Everywhere lay dead and dying humans and Tlartox.
Nearby lay a human female. Her head was all bloody and she had a gaping hole in her chest. She was trying to say something and, out of curiosity, Prawl leaned over her. The closeness of an enemy didn’t seem to frighten the wounded marine at all.
“Record,” the human whispered. “Want to send record.”
Humans. She should have done that before the battle. Make peace with the past, prepare for death. Humans just didn’t seem to understand. Left too many things undone.
Prawl stood shakily and found a comm station and toggled it on. A human appeared, looking slightly surprised at seeing the Tlartox Group Commander. She looked straight into the vid screen. “Group Commander Prawl Tlerik,” she identified herself.
“Major Bronil Esranol,” the human replied. “How may I help you, Group Commander?”
“I have a human. Wants to make final record.”
The human looked even more surprised. “We are ready to record, Group Commander Tlerik.”
Prawl turned and found the dying human. She lifted her into her arms and returned to the screen. “Make record quickly, marine. Not much time.”
“Bel Frincol, Sergeant, 1st Adian Marines. Send to my father, Kron Frincol, the following: Dad, you were right,” Bel gasped out. “Outside, even ‘Legumes-in-Sauce’ tastes good. I know that, now. Thank you.”
The Marine sergeant went limp in her arms. A strange final record, Prawl thought, but it seemed important to the human.
“Major Esranol, it is over. This one is no more.” She looked down, and moved her hand, pushing a few hairs away from Bel’s face, then looked up again. “Add to the Sergeant’s record that Group Commander Prawl Tlerik, Tlartox Commandos reports that this one did her duty well and brought honor to her unit.”
The major nodded grimly. “Group Commander Tlerik, you bring honor to your klatch and your progenitors. We thank you, honored foe.”
Prawl accepted her due with a stiff nod, only slightly surprised at the Major’s good manners. She carefully set down the marine and turned back to the screen. “Now I must return to my duties, Major.” She toggled off the screen as her rescuers, now once again in retreat, came back down the corridor.
They quickly checked their dead, treated the wounded, and left the corridor with a rush as the rear guard warned of oncoming humans.
Soon they’d be back near the hull. And, there, she knew of a good place for a final defense. The humans would pay dearly for their victory.
HONOR
“Admiral Cenet, I’m glad to see you are still with us.”
“Thank you, Admiral Fenton.” The fleet admiral had a patch over one eye, Cenet saw. Another screen showed Restigouche, battered and torn.
“We have one more battle, Admiral. The enemy comes even as we speak.” Fenton looked as tired as he felt, Cenet thought.
“Yes.” The fleet that had been slowly forming on the far side of Lormar’s moon was definitely inbound. Tactical information from the surface showed that the ships about the Tlartox controlled stations had also formed up.
“Raid incoming!” Cenet’s detection officer warned, and Cenet broke the connection in order to deal with this latest threat. He ordered Taglini’s small squadron of Hurricane, Searcher, Tempest and Parquel’s Luck, an Adian destroyer, to deal with it. The Tlartox designed the raids, Cenet had no doubt, to keep them awake, slow their reaction times and generally degrade their fighting abilities.
TEMPEST
“Hurricane reports shields down, sir!”
“Torpedoes away!”
Commodore Taglini acknowledged the reports as Captain Fronel picked himself up off the deck. They, too, had been hit hard and only the Helm’s impossibly tight turn saved them.
He overheard Navigation Lieutenant Wira Brilth, who had taken over helm, say dryly to Lowegtoten, “Specs say that turn was impossible.” Lowegtoten merely nodded, concentrating on the next target. Taglini patted his armrest, thinking only good thoughts about the old lady. Tempest would do.
“Searcher is drawing their fire,” Lowegtoten reported.
On the screen they could see Searcher twist and turn, then loose two torpedoes which struck a Tlartox frigate, killing her shields. Parquel’s Luck raked the frigate once before turning her attention to another raider, which closed on Hurricane. Tempest rocked with a hit.
“We’ve lost all Comm, sir,” Lieutenant Sorbine reported. “Antennas must be fried.”
Fronel looked helplessly at Taglini.
“I guess I’m not going to be doing much good here any longer. I’ll take over the Aux Bridge.”
“As you wish, sir.”
Taglini made his way out the door. Tempest shuddered. He was out of there, thanks be to the gods. He wasn’t sure he could take any more. Rop Jaron was glad enough to see him, turning over command to the Commodore in order to leave and take personal charge of the damage control parties.
He had nothing really to do on the auxiliary bridge. Taglini slipped a stick into his reader and pulled up the image of Listra Benteel. “I miss you,” he whispered to the image, wanting nothing more than a cabin of some sort on a planet far away from wars.
Lieutenant Grella Sorbine, who’d joi
ned him on the Auxiliary Bridge, worked hard at restoring some kind of Comm with the rest of the fleet. Walking past the commodore, she took a quick glance at his reader.
Sorbine didn’t have time to consider it, for her work on a relay to one of the ship’s lifeboats took all of her attention. “I’ve got it,” she called out in triumph, when a smashing blow to Tempest sent her tumbling into the bulkhead. A roar filled her ears and through terribly blurred vision she saw the shape of the Commodore moving her way, pulling her by the arm and dragging her across the deck. She tried to tell him to stop, that it hurt, but the words didn’t leave her throat. It felt like a nightmare where you can’t speak, where you know that if you can just say something—anything—out loud, you’ll wake up and escape.
Finally Taglini released her and she groaned in relief. He said something, then moved off again. She struggled to keep moving, for somehow she knew there was danger; then she stopped as her mind at last processed his words. “Stay here. You’ll be safe.”
HONOR
Thirty minutes later, as the Adian and Confederation ships formed up for the final battle, the detection officer reported, “Raid withdrawing. Some damage to our ships, but all are still capable of fighting.”
“Here they come!”
“Put me through to Admiral Fenton on Restigouche.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
If anything, Admiral Fenton looked even more tired and drawn than he felt. The eye patch looked strange on her face. “Yes, Admiral?” Tired, very tired, Cenet thought, then paused to wonder just how he looked to her. He pulled himself together.
“Fleet Admiral,” he saluted, “it has been a pleasure serving with you.”
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